Page 66 of Psychopath

“Feeling?”

“That I’ve made a mistake. I’ve let you kick Mackie down the ladder.”

Zane narrowed his eyes. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Who is the real Zane? Which one of his faces am I talking to?”

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know anymore?”

“You know what, I probably would.”

Zane rubbed his chin and grinned. “There’s been many different versions. The university high-flyer, the perfect son, the spoilt brat, the sex addict, the drunkard, the murderer. Question is, who are you hoping I’ll be? Or should I say, what are you hoping I’ll be?”

A psychopath.

Quinn breathed deep and stared at his notes. The sessions, the tests, and the studies had all been used by him to fill out a checklist, a checklist used to assess prisoners and their personality traits. Quinn needed psychopaths for his study.

“Quinn?”

“I want you to be yourself. That’s all I want.”

“No one ever wanted me to be myself.”

“Well, I do.” Quinn gathered his papers together. “You confuse me so much.” He stopped his rushed tidying and looked up. “Mackie was an ideal participant, and I kicked him off the study because you told me to. Because I believed you, and now I’ve got to go grovelling—”

Zane’s fist came down hard on the table, and Quinn jumped back in surprise. “Don’t!”

“Cleo’s been guilt-tripping me every day since. He’s not eating; he’s barely speaking to anyone. There was no reason to do it—”

“He scared you.”

“So do you.”

Zane shook his head. “You know the fear you feel for me is different. He was going to hurt you. I know he was.”

“Or maybe you just wanted to see how under your thumb I was. You made me think you gave a shit about me, and I stupidly trusted you. I could’ve jeopardised this study, and for what?”

“Wait. I do give a shit—”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to set this up? How vital participants are?”

“I know that you valuing this study more than your own life is stupid.”

“It’s all I’ve got right now. I need it to be a success, and I…” Quinn growled at himself.

“What?”

“This,” Quinn spat, gesturing to himself, then Zane. “I don’t know what it is, but it stops now. It’s unprofessional.”

Zane’s eyes darted away. “Where is this even coming from?”

“You.”

“What did I do?”

“Looks like I’m number one now,” Quinn echoed.

This time, the words didn’t make his blood cold, they made it hot with anger.

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